


Ahkate: Vaylin's Keeper

by Anchanted_One



Series: The Old Republic [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 16:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17186537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchanted_One/pseuds/Anchanted_One
Summary: Darth Nox, once one of the Twelve dreaded rulers of the Sith, has been defeated and captured by the Eternal Empire. She chooses to play a game of defiance with her captors, curious to see how long she can go on.





	Ahkate: Vaylin's Keeper

**Akahte: Vaylin’s Keeper**

 

Sitting in her private chambers aboard the Sith Dreadnought _Stormcloud_ , Acina, Empress of the Sith, tried to master herself for her imminent arrival on Zakuul. Here, she would formally accept Zakuul’s sovereignty over her Sith Empire. The very thought made her angry.

By claiming the title of Empress meant that Darth Acina had declared herself the strongest Sith alive, challenged anyone to prove otherwise. That no one contested the title was proof enough that she had earned it. Not even Vowrawn, the other remaining Councillor, had attempted  to challenge her claim. She now held ultimate power amongst the dreaded Sith, and their Empire. However, that title didn’t mean what it did years ago.

The Eternal Empire, at Zakuul, was the new center of power in the Galaxy. . It’s dreaded Eternal Fleet, comprised of thousands of automated warships, had simultaneously laid waste to both the Republic _and_ the Empire. Some in both sides tried to delude themselves into believing that Zakuul had only won because the Sith and Republic had spent decades eroding each other’s resources. But the reality was that Zakuulan ships were far more advanced than most of what either side could throw at them, and had destroyed most of the Imperial and Republic navies, gaining naval superiority and being able to choke supply lines.

Their Naval superiority alone won the Zakuulans their war. When the dust settled, most of the Dark Council, once the ruling body of the Sith Empire, were dead. Only Vowrawn remained.

Well. Vowrawn, and _her_.

_Darth Nox. Or Akahte, as she was once known_.

Yes, above all else, the thought of meeting her beaten-down former colleague unsettled her, for she could manage to bow before Arcann, Emperor of Zakuul. But facing Darth Nox, whom she had betrayed, made her feel uneasy.

The small, slender, violet-skinned Twi’lek who was born a mere slave, grudgingly accepted into the Sith Academy on Korriban because of her power. Who had crushed many powerful Sith, including her Master Zash, and her predecessor on the Dark Council, Darth Thanaton. Her knowledge of the Arcane secrets of the Dark Side was already the stuff of legend. And her power was far beyond any other Sith, once having come second only to the former Emperor Vitiate. The others on the Council- Vowrawn, Mortis, Ravage, Acharon, Rictus and even that ancient relic Marr- were in awe of her talent, and had even assumed that she would claim the vacant throne. That she deserved it, even.

Even when she showed no signs of wanting it, none dared claim it in case she chose to answer that implied challenge.

And so the Throne had remained empty when Zakuul attacked. Marr, who was loyal to Nox, had fallen early. The Empire’s Wrath, also her staunch ally, had been lost on Hoth. And with her strongest allies missing, all the other Councillors had chosen to betray her at Begeren. They withheld reinforcements and even delayed her own followers and lesser allies like Moff Pyron. This had forced the woman to stand virtually alone against the invading Zakuul forces. Frighteningly, she had almost prevailed against better than a hundred-to-one odds. What finally denied her victory was the direct intervention of Vaylin, High Justice of Zakuul. Undisciplined but powerful, she had defeated Nox with ease.

But she hadn’t killed her. No, in a fall that delighted all her former colleagues on the Council, Nox had found herself right back where she’d started. As a slave. No doubt the shock alone had broken the wretched woman, Acina thought with satisfaction. Rising to such heights despite having such a lowly birth, only to lose it all, would be a blow to anyone.

Acina felt she should look forward to meeting the humbled woman. Reminding her of her place as a slave. Ordering her to keep her room clean.

Yes, that anticipation alone should have made Acina look forward to pledging herself to Arcann, rather than hating it.

So why, then, did she have… _such a bad feeling about this?_

 

**

 

Using the former most powerful Sith as a slave, and showing her to her former allies, would be a powerful statement about Zakuul’s superiority. Everyone in Acina’s delegation knew without exchanging a word, who Arcann would assign to greet them. And so he had. No one was surprised to see Nox on the Landing pad.

But smiles slowly turned into bewilderment. And then, into terror. For despite all expectations, Nox seemed unfazed by her steep fall.

She stood there, in a slave’s unremarkable garb, as though she still wore her ornate Killik silk robes. Her shock collar, meant to hurt her in the form of high voltage jolts to enforce her obedience, could have been a priceless necklace.

Her expression pleasant, her head high, and her smile warm, Darth Nox curtsied elegantly before the new arrivals.

“Empress Acina, on behalf of my master, the all-powerful Emperor Arcann of Zakuul, I welcome you and your entourage to Zakuul.” The courtesy with which she had delivered the welcome almost seemed to energize the Twi’lek. There was no mockery in her voice, no hint of a threat against any who chose to remind her of her place, and no implied promise of her return to power. But neither was there even a hint of a defeated woman.

Darth Vowrawn, Prime Minister of the Sith Empire, watched as his Empress Acina struggled to summon the arrogant, gloating manner with which she had undoubtedly intended to greet her fallen colleague. Her smile was taught and her skin pale. Sweat poured profusely down her face, drenching the dark velvet material of her robes. Yes, she was definitely regretting having claimed that empty title. For now, not only would she have to pay homage to the upstart dog Arcann, she would have to deal with Nox’s attention.

_What a fool you are, Acina!_ Vowrawn thought wryly. She had assumed that Vowrawn had stepped aside and let her claim the throne because she, Acina, was stronger than he. Oh, no, he had stepped aside until things quieted down a little, and both Arcann and Vaylin lost interest in grinding the Sith. And of course, for Nox to leave the picture. He had seen her power on many occasions; he had no interest in becoming her enemy, even now that she was a slave. His caution was now justified. Although even he had underestimated her. The cool confidence in her demeanor had startled him as much as it had any other of Acina’s retinue.

The Empress licked her lips and tried unsuccessfully to speak in a similar, neutral voice rather than the one she had been looking forward to. “Thank you, Akahte- uh, I mean, Darth Nox. It is a pleasure to meet you again. I am happy that you seem so...”

Whatever Acina intended to say died in her throat, for she now seemed keenly aware that Nox knew that she’d betrayed her. And Acina seemed to have no intention of visiting that issue.

Nox waited patiently for Acina to continue. But the Empress’s discomfort stretched on; her face growing purple as she tried not to squirm. Eventually, she was forced to simply abandon any end to her sentence, and attempt to cover it up.

“It seems that the Tarisian Ale I had on the journey is not fully agreeing with me, I do feel ill. Would you mind leading us to our chambers now, dear? I do beg the Emperor’s pardon, for I cannot greet him in my present state.”

Nox smiled at her sympathetically. “The Emperor had demanded that you be brought to him directly, but I will show you to your room, then lead the others to the Emperor. I’ll let him know of your indisposition. You can rest. He will summon you again later, I trust you won’t disappoint him a second time.”

To Vowrawn’s shock, the Knights and servants about her seemed too cowed to protest. Even the one who had the control to her shock collar seemed reluctant to use the switch and punish her for taking the call.

_This does not bode well. Not at all. What game have we found ourselves in now?_

 

**

 

Vaylin watched as Arcann paced the throne room. Her brother’s frustration amused her. His ill-advised private war with the Sith Twi’lek woman had been going on for months without end yet in sight. Her resilience had completely thrown off his attempt at posturing for the Sith Empire.

After her marvellous display of power during the Battle of Begeren, Arcann had realized just what a powerful statement it would be to the Sith, if he broke her. Like the Sith Council, he had assumed that the simple placement of a collar would be enough to shatter her resolve. Or the replacement of her beautiful Sith robes with the gray work-clothes of the slaves. She had woken up, unfazed by her chains and her garb, examining her new shock-collar with a detached curiosity rather than the anticipated horror.

When they began assigning her tasks, she had done them obligingly, as though she was choosing to do so of her own free will, rather than being ordered to as a slave. No matter how lowly the task, she would go about it as though it was by no means demeaning or dirty.

He thought to torture her, physically or mentally.

But these attempts were all foiled by her innate link to the Dark Side, a link that made most people in her presence nervous, at best, and scared shitless at worst. No one, no one at all, was willing to risk hurting her. Or, as they saw it, provoking her. Even the arena beasts were afraid. Chained and collared, she still inspired fear.

Even Arcann himself wasn’t unaffected; he would grow flustered and nervous, sometimes spilling or fumbling with whatever happened to be in his hands.

It was all hilarious!

And now _this_ juicy little course of events.

Ordered to bring the Sith Empress before Arcann, Nox had scared the woman silly. The _Empress_ had been so spooked she needed a room to recover in. Which wouldn’t have been bad by itself. Except that Nox had chosen, on her own authority, to show Acina her dubious mercy. A slave should have no business making decisions on her masters, and their time. Yes, the proper course would have been informing the Emperor and _then_ granting her the mercy she begged for. Instead, she had walked in to the throne-room with the Empress’ entourage trailing her in abject terror, and calmly told Arcann what had transpired and advised him to meet the Empress properly before supper. An enraged Arcann had activated her shock collar without thinking, and the Twi’lek woman had almost enjoyed the pain. And she’d used the pain to feed that amusing aura of hers, so that the people around her felt their own unease mount. Exponentially. Several of Acina’s delegation had shrieked in terror. Some attendants and servants had soiled themselves. Even Arcann, who had involuntarily squealed and tripped before catching himself.

Yes, it had been so very funny. Vaylin intended to keep the holo of the event.

Even now, Arcann agonized over the issue, using one of the security holocams to observe as she served the Sith.

As usual, she looked not like the humble slave, but the gracious host who delighted in seeing to her guests’ need personally.

The Sith and their attendant staff and guards were eerily silent, one or two of them shaking like leaves.

_“It is wonderful to see your spirit intact, mt dear Nox! It will be a great boost to the morale of the Empire to know that the greatest of the Former Council still fights on! Keep this up and the Sith might rally to you instead!”_

That was Darth Vowrawn. The aged Sith was as much career-politician as he Sith. He realized the threat that Nox would pose to the current hierarchy, and to his own ambitions. He clearly wanted Arcann to hear, to deal with Nox before she became a threat to him. And to the Sith.

_“With you at its head, the Sith Empire would be unstoppable!” he pressed, as Nox poured a drink for a white-faced guard. “You should have taken the throne years ago, when our old Emperor was killed. Everyone knew you were the strongest, we would have made no move against you had you claimed that title! And should you return, you will be given an Empress’s welcome!”_

Well he wasn’t being so subtle at all now, was he? He really was desperate to have her disposed of.

_“The Sith had their chance. They betrayed me._ _You_ _betrayed me. After all I gave to the Empire. Despite my mercy. Yes, with Marr and the Lord Wrath at my back, I could have crushed the rest of you, become Empress. Enforced your obedience instead of sharing power with you, the Dark Council. And you chose to betray me, ” she paused, cast an amused glance at Vowrawn and Acina._ _But Vaylin could sense that she was planning on showing them her displeasure, for her disgust was beginning to show through her tight self-control.“No, I think I’ll stay. I dunno what else to do, now that I no longer want to be Sith. And I quite like it here.”_

Vaylin didn’t doubt it. The Sith were so treacherous that the very air on their worlds were saturated with paranoia. Whatever else you said about Zakuul, no one could claim the same widespread mutual suspicion existed here.

Arcann laughed angrily. “There’s no point in watching them. They’re too afraid of her, so they’ll do no more than drop vague hints that she should rebel, and she will claim that she has no intention of betraying us. Such a pointless exercise.”

“He told her that no one could stop her from becoming Empress if she returned, that’s hardly vague,” Vaylin observed. “And you know very well she’s not afraid. Not of us, not of dying. When she said she prefers it here, she meant it.”

_“What are you plotting, Dark Lord?” Vowrawn asked. He had asked her that before, several times, but there was a change in his voice now. He had no idea what Nox intended, and the thought terrified him. He was admitting defeat now, stepping aside to allow her to do whatever she wanted._

_“Oh I have no such plans,” Nox sighed_ . _“Truthfully, ruling with the Council was my only dream. I wanted to make our Empire a better place, but now I don’t feel that strongly about it. No, my only “plan” now, is to have as much fun as I can before they break me.”_

That caught Vaylin’s attention. Arcann’s too.

_On the other side of the holocam, Vowrawn looked stunned._

_“It is inevitable,” Nox said simply. “Nothing lasts forever. All I can do at this point is enjoy every second before that happens. And it might happen this very night, if you’re lucky. You might get to see the mighty Darth Nox finally humbled, now wouldn’t you like that?”_

_Vowrawn had gone quite pale, his lips moved but no sound came out. Nox’s face hardened. Open disgust and scorn filled her voice._

_“Arcann has won, you treacherous coward. There can be no beating him unless something that can challenge the whole fleet is found. The only victories allowed us are the small ones, now. But you know that, don’t you? That is why you are begging him to kill me for you. Ha- A Sith of the Imperial Council. Begging. How we have fallen.”_

_Despite her small stature, she seemed to tower over him. “Go back to your little castles in the sand, Vowrawn. Play your insignificant games. That’s what you wanted when you betrayed me, wasn’t it? A return to the backstabbing ways of days past? Set one Sith against another then stand out of the way until only you remain? Well congratulations. You have what you wanted. Neither Acina nor you can keep the Sith in line now. You can’t beat Zakuul. So sleep in the bed you’ve made.”_

“What was that?” Arcann asked. His face- the part that wasn’t hidden behind his mask- seemed deep in thought. Calculating. “She wants me to break her?”

“She knows she will lose eventually, but she wants to enjoy getting there,” Vaylin remarked.

“So… this is just a game to her. And she’s accepted all possible outcomes. Death, breaking, or fighting another day. That means there’s no beating her. She’s won.”

“Oh do cheer up, big brother,” Vaylin purred, giving him her most innocent smile. Arcann took a few steps back warily. “If this is a game where all outcomes are victory, then just end the game.”

“So you want me to execute her?”

“No, I want a shot or two at her.”

“What are you thinking?” Arcann said cautiously.

“I’m thinking she’ll be a good personal attendant. For when I sleep.”

Arcann’s face paled. A sleeping Vaylin was so dangerous that she had a small bunker as a bedroom. Her dreams were violent. And so horrifying that he did his best not to even think about it. He didn’t have to consider her offer for long.

“Very well then. She’s all yours.”

 

**

 

“So it’s just the two of us again? Oh joy!” She was still calm, but Akahte sensed that her little game had ended. Well, she had asked for it, that was why she had announced her goal. It was fitting that whatever her end, it came at Vaylin’s hands. Today, Vaylin would end the fall she had started months ago.

“Lovely isn’t it?” Vaylin gushed with a sweet smile, throwing an arm companionably around Akahte’s shoulders. “Best friends having a sleepover night! I’ve never had one before, and you probably didn’t either, am I right? I truly am excited- ooh I can feel goosebumps! We can stay up late, tell each other girly stories, compare notes about our favourite boys, watch lewd holovids… Oh and I can crush your spirit at the end.”

Akahte laughed as they entered a turbolift. “Well. Sounds like we should have done this long ago! Will you be cooking something for me? Perhaps we can sing and dance too! And I know I’ve always wanted to braid someone’s hair.”

“See? That’s the spirit!” Vaylin approved. “I don’t get spirit anywhere. Once this is done, I will remember you fondly.”

“So, what exactly are we doing at this slumber party of ours?”

Vaylin smile turned bitter. “I will sleep. You will go mad. It’s just that simple. You see, my power was greater than father’s but far more volatile. He was scared of me… so scared that he had me tortured for years on that accursed world Nathema.”

“What?” Akahte was startled. “Why would he torture you? If he was so scared, why not kill you instead?”

“Because he was a demon,” Vaylin grated. “He does not kill what he can corrupt. And all that torture left its mark on me.”

“And you relive it every night,” Akahte ventured.

“Yes. And the world around me trembles as I dream.” The lift doors opened, and Akahte stepped out, behind Vaylin, into a sombre underground bunker. Everything, from the walls, to the sheets, to even those decorative paintings, seemed to be a lifeless shade of gray.

“I’m so sorry, love. I wish the galaxy wasn’t this… cruel,” Akahte said. She was feeling genuinely sorry for the young woman. She wondered, also, what had made Arcann into what he now was.

“Thank you,” Vaylin said, appearing slightly surprised. “How strange. Ordinarily I don’t appreciate pity. But yours… I welcome it. Imagine that.”

The two sat in silence for a while.

Akahte pointed at the pantry and said “So got anything interesting in there?”

“Oh yes! I make the best Pasta sauces, and my pastries aren’t too bad either! So let’s get this party started!”

Akahte and Vaylin surprised each other. Though all the talk about a slumber party was meant to be just a joke, they did genuinely enjoy the next few hours. Vaylin’s pastas and pastries were indeed delicious, and though her dancing lacked grace, Vaylin sure made up for it in raw enthusiasm. They also talked- she about her favourite romance holomovies, and Akahte about the many hilarious anecdotes that arose due to her unique crew; two-faced Dashade, a hardened pirate, an archaeologist, and a headstrong not-really-a-Jedi of an apprentice. Oh, and Xalek, who was silent most of the time but did offer some unintentionally interesting threats and comments on occasion.

Until, finally, they fell asleep. Akahte, in an armchair, face on a table, and Vaylin, on her bed, propped up in a sitting position by the bedpost.

Akahte’s sleep didn’t last. She jumped awake shivering. Her breath came in foggy gasps. The temperature had reduced drastically But only in her immediate vicinity. Right next to her, her half-empty cup of Arkanian rum was actually boiling. Akahte managed to duck just as the glass shattered, fragments peppering the chair she had fallen asleep on.

She took temporary refuge under the table and looked around. It was pandemonium. Many small objects had jumped off their shelves and tables. They were all tracing a path around Vaylin’s sleeping form, like some primitive tribe worshipping their god. The larger objects like the furniture, holotables and electronic equipment started to shiver like a rabbit before a wolf. The entire room seemed to be divided into small irregular zones of extreme temperatures. Some areas shimmered in the heat while moisture froze mid-air in other zones. And of course, this lead to some interesting, localized, miniature hurricanes. Akahte was actually quite impressed.

Things began to get worse when Vaylin started to whimper in her sleep. The smaller objects began to move faster, the furniture started to wobble in some awkward, frenzied dance rather than shake. And the hot and cold zones seemed to confuse each other.

And to make matters worse, Vaylin’s emotions began to leak into the world around her. Her anguish and rage echoed across the room. The winds spawned from the vortex were starting to scream like sentient beings.

Akahte wasn't imagining things. The winds gained voices of their own. Some shrieked in fear, some roared in a rage, demanding the world be put to the flame as punishment for their agony. And some laughed in an unnervingly high-pitched, maniacal tone of a hundred banshees.

But the worst voices were those that whispered. They found her. Scanned her memories. Read her like some children's book. And then started to whisper words of derision and failure, fear and horror.

And then her own mind began to react to the raw terror hanging in the air, conjuring shadowy, cruel demons and twisted, smoky mazes that promised her the most terrifying of eternities.

Akahte had known fear before. But she had not felt it in years, not since she had first left the slave pens behind. And never this strong!

For the first time, she understood what being broken implied. She wished she had never provoked Arcann.

As cold sweat poured down her neck- some drops freezing, others heating up rapidly, Akahte even started to curse the day she was born. Before she realised it, her own shriek had joined the chorus around her. She called for her mother to hold her. She called for her Dashade, Khem Val, to save her. She even cried for Arcann, admitting the most humiliating of defeats, if it meant leaving this accused room!

_Anything, just spare me, I can take this no longer_!

And then Vaylin began to scream. If it had been scary before, it was light-years past terrifying, now. For Vaylin’s subconscious, still stuck on Nathema, had begun to reject its freedom. It seemed to demand that the surroundings more closely match that dreadful world. Unless Akahte was imagining things, tendrils of Light and Dark were fighting to run in opposite directions, as if the very Force itself had begun to run away in fear but with Light and Dark being unsure which way to run.

Akahte had long since left her refuge under the table behind, abandoning it in a wild effort to outrun the whispers and the visions. The many datapads and discs charging through the air left large cuts in her arms and shoulders as she fought to protect her face and as much of her lekku as she could.

In her desperation she darted for the eye of the storm. Where the epicentre of the chaos was. In so doing, she found herself curled up next to Vaylin, who seemed to be every bit in agony that Akahte was. This close, she could hear Vaylin’s thoughts, and see her memories; so strong were the nightmares.

As she watched, some of her own horror faded. She reeled at the treatment the poor girl had endured. Vaylin had severely understated her years of torture at her father's orders.

“Mommee!” Vaylin whimpered, her voice sounding years younger, like a small child’s. “Please don't let them take me! I promise I'll be good! No! Please! No! Don't go away! Come back!”

The Sith saw hundreds of images run before her mind’s eye; of dark rooms filled with blood, and evil machinery, and beasts and monsters. But more than any of those she saw a tall stern woman, dressed in white, hair pulled tightly back into a bun, who watched helplessly as Vaylin was removed from her grasp. The scene returned to her more often than any others. She saw the mother attempt to save Vaylin, but it had come too late. Vaylin’s hatred for the mother who had abandoned her had grown and festered. More than anything else, it was her mother's unwilling betrayal that had led to her to her current depths of depravity.

Akahte could bear it no more. She had long since forgotten her own terror, become submerged in Vaylin’s nightmares. Now it was for Vaylin that she willed herself into action, calling on her formidable knowledge of the Dark Arts. Taking Vaylin’s head in her arms, she delved deep into her mind. Desperate to save her as she was, Akahte could brush off the chaos and the pain the storm inspired. Trusting her instincts, she made straight for the centre of the maelstrom. She could almost see it… a smudge of light amidst the shifting fog. But it never seemed to be getting closer no matter how fast she charged.

Her desperation mounting, she shouted, “Vaylin! Can you hear me? Vaylin!” the light seemed to freeze, to take notice of her. It backed away uncertainly, but far slower than it had before.

“No Vaylin, don't be scared! It'll all be just fine! I'm coming!” she persisted.

Now she was closing in. She could see it…

She could see a little girl, her hair a gleaming gold, no more than five years of age, beset by the dark storm and eyes wide in the most terrible fear.

“Momma?” she whimpered, rushing towards Akahte “Momma!”

And then Akahte reached her. Exerting the full might of her will she lashed out at the chaotic storm, using the Force to push back the entirety of Vaylin’s nightmares and terrors.

It wasn't easy; the entity sought out the smallest of cracks in her attack and attempted to resume their assault on Vaylin. But shielding her mind from other influences was old hat for Akahte, once the feared Darth Nox.

With an almighty burst of power she pushed the storm away, and created a shield to protect Vaylin from it.

And then there was silence. Outside of Vaylin’s psyche, in the room too, yes, but Akahte only barely noticed. It was the inner peace, in Vaylin’s mind, that truly mattered now.

She stood with Vaylin, in a sunlit meadow. They could hear birds, and squirrels. The rustle of the leaves and the splashing of a stream. They watched each other for a little while.

Then the small Vaylin asked, “Have you come to play with me?” She was a happy, excited child now, full of that indescribable energy that only the happiest of children can feel.

“Yes, love,” Akahte smiled back, feeling a joy she had not felt in years. “And I'll stay for as long as you want me to.”

 

**

 

It was late into the morning when she awoke. By her standard, anyway. Vaylin felt better than she had in… Ages!

Had she just had a good night's sleep? When was the last time she had slept in, rather than escape the dreams as soon as she possibly could? She had sometimes gone days without sleep, eager to put off her confrontation with her nightmares.

But now… She had rested. She had dreamed. It felt like it was from a time long ago, but something was different. She tried to turn slightly, confused at finding her head resting comfortably in someone's arms. As she sat up, she realized that they were Akahte's arms. The Twi'lek woman was looking at her with a tender expression that tickled her memories, reminding her of a time long gone… it was how Senya had once looked at her.

“What did you do?” Vaylin asked in astonishment.

“I… pushed the nightmares away,” Akahte replied.

“Just like that?” Vaylin asked, incredulous.

“Well… yes,” Akahte responded.

Vaylin couldn't believe it. She continued to sit where she was, open-mouthed, until Akahte spoke up again.

“When you were sleeping, I could see your nightmares. I felt some of that agony. Your father was a demon! How could he… to his own child, to anyone… that was monstrous!”

And still Vaylin couldn't speak.

“Vaylin, I am so, so, dreadfully sorry for what you have been put through,” she continued. “That damage that was done to you. I cannot undo it. But I can help you sleep. Dream of better days. Your sleep will be refuge from your past.”

“You would do that for me? But why? I am your enemy. My legions devastated your Empire, turned you from one of the rulers of the Sith into a slave.”

“After what I saw, you think any of that matters?”

“You’re… different from other Dark Lords of the Sith. Especially for one that rose to the Dark Council as quickly as you did. Most Sith would have made my dreams worse. Even if they were inclined towards mercy, they’d have just killed me. And… wait a second, how can you use the Force with that restraint attached anyway?”

“Oh these things? They can’t _stop_ you from using the Force, you know, they can only discourage it greatly. In times of extreme danger or fear one can ignore that discouragement. Maybe it’s the Adrenaline? Oh well. Once I was using the Force, I could unlock these things much more easily.

“As for why… that is a longer story for another time. The short version is that I had a son, when I was a slave. I kept him secret as I didn’t want other Sith to find out about him, and harm him. And I only grew as quickly as I did because I was desperate to find him again, and move him to safety. You could say that my meteoric rise to power was entirely because of my love for him. That is why I have always been more inclined to kindness than most Sith. But when I finally did find him, he was killed right in front of me. He had been waiting for me at a military supply depot that got bombed by Republic Special Forces.”

“That’s so dreadful…” Vaylin didn’t know what to say. Sympathy was something else she had forgotten.

“Thank you. But what I mean from all this is that I do have a mother’s heart. And that heart wants to shield you from your pain, for as long as I live. I won’t fail you like I failed my son. I won’t abandon you, as your mother did. I will be your loyal slave and your keeper until the very end of our days. Yours and yours alone. If you will have me, Vaylin.”

Vaylin considered her for the longest time. She slowly regained her composure as she thought. “And what of the Empire?”

“From now on, you are the only thing that matters to me. I swear it.”

A smile crept onto Vaylin’s face; she looked like a satisfied Nexu. “Well, what do you know! For once I feel so happy I could sing! And it's only still morning…”

 

**

 

Arcann had a feeling of deep foreboding. While it was still relatively early, it was well past the time when Vaylin usually rose. He had expected to see her, as usual, haunting the library, looking through stories of journeys; real or fiction.  Singing her eerie melodies to herself while prowling the gardens. Browsing the Holonet for new ideas on decoration or fashion. At the very least, he expected her to be tormenting some poor soul.

That she was not yet awake put him on his guard.

As always, he'd eaten his breakfast in private, and then after the regular morning briefing of events that needed his attention, had begun his daily training regimen. He sensed their approach before they walked into the training room.

Any mild discomfort he felt over Darth Nox's usual, unbroken mind, became stronger when he noticed that she was no longer wearing that shock collar. He also noticed that though she still wore the usual gray garb of the slave, she had decorated the right shoulder with the gold-and-blue sword that Vaylin used as her mock-standard. She had also braided black leather cords around her lekku, and her left arm.

Vaylin gave him one of her deepest smiles as she approached. As always, Arcann had to suppress a shudder at the imagined promise of mischief hiding in her smile. But this time, there was something else, though he couldn’t tell what. The feeling of foreboding growing, Arcann wondered whether he had unwittingly allowed the formation of the most deadly alliance in history.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahkate is Sith Inquisitor from the Star Wars: The Old Republic storyline. She is Lightsided, despite the "Nox" name, and she is not the Outlander in my story. Instead, she's the Wild Card that plays a very different role.


End file.
